


The coffeeshop au no one needed or asked for

by orphan_account



Category: McElroy Vlogs & Podcasts RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Cliche bullshit, I'm Sorry, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-14
Updated: 2017-07-14
Packaged: 2018-12-02 00:21:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11497860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Nick freaks out about his soulmate. Griffin gets a muffin and finds out that his soulmate is somewhat of a celebrity. The name of this in my google docs was "another trash" so you know





	The coffeeshop au no one needed or asked for

**Author's Note:**

> Here's a terrible thing i made. I wrote the first half of this really late and then I forgot about it for like a week. I wrote the rest tonight. It's very bad because no one has read it or edited it yet. Also, tell me if there's any typos and/or tense mixups if you notice them. Constructive criticism welcome and wanted thanks   
> talk to me!!  
> https://goodgoodcarboys.tumblr.com/

Nick is sitting in his car, right outside of the coffee shop at which he works. He’s taking little gasps of air, trying to calm down. It’s going to be okay- it always was- because it was just his soulmate. That’s it. No biggie. He almost laughed at that, because he was being stupid. Trying to convince himself that meeting his soulmate wasn’t a big deal was pointless. It was important. But telling himself that it was important didn’t help either- what if he messed everything up? What if he spilled coffee on their shirt? What if his timer ran out of time, and theirs didn’t? He took a deep breath and glanced at his wrist, which read two hours, eighteen minutes, thirty-eight seconds. He remembered when it said ten years, and thought about how two hours felt like nothing compared to ten years. He walked into his job feeling nervous.

Ten minutes, said his wrist. Nick drummed his fingers nervously on the edges of the cash register in front of him, tapping out the rhythm of some song he’d half forgotten. The butterflies in his stomach were absolutely losing their shit. He only sort of heard the droning voice of the radio host whose voice was being played quietly on a shitty speaker behind the counter. He only heard certain words and phrases, like “summer anthem” and “back with their newest hit” and a few songs that were easily forgettable. He ran his hands through his hair, closed his eyes, cracked his knuckles. He looked back down at his arm, and the six minutes glaring back at him made him chew his lip.

Two minutes.  
Oh god, time was passing so, so slowly. Nick couldn’t really handle it and he didn’t feel ready.

One minute.  
What did they look like? What kind of music do they listen to? What types of video games do they play? Did they play video games at all? What does their voice sound like? What’s their favorite color?

Thirty seconds.  
Someone switched the radio station. Nick can tell, because the host is now a man with a deep voice and he’s saying things like “Debussy’s most well-known piece” and “I hope you find this song to be a small comfort in a world that moves too fast” and more romantic garbage. The first few notes start to play, and Nick recognizes it immediately. It’s Clair de Lune. He almost laughed. It was stupid, again, but this time it’s God’s fault, not his. Of course it’s this dumb, overused, cliche song. Of course.

Ten seconds.  
Deep breaths.  
In.  
Out.  
In.  
Out.

 

Five seconds.  
The bell on the door rings, as if on cue, and Nick takes a second to look at whoever entered because he has to finish writing down someone else’s order. He looks up.

One second.  
He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know what he could say. It felt like his heart was trying to turn itself inside out. The man on the other side of the counter seemed frozen, and he stammered a bit before saying anything. “Hi, uh, I’m- I’m Griffin, and I had a one liner prepared, but I forgot it. We’re- are we soulmates? Because, my timer just finished counting down and you were there.” Nick smiled. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure we’re soulmates. I’m Nick. What can I get you today?” “I’ll have a muffin.” Then, under his breath, he added “and your number, please and thank you.” Nick laughed as he grabbed Griffin’s muffin from behind the counter. “I mean, we could talk after my shift ends, in like half an hour.That’ll be $4.50.” Griffin ferreted around in his wallet for a few seconds before finding the right credit card. “That’s an expensive muffin,” he remarked, handing the card to Nick. “Thanks. It has breadcrumb topping.” He laughed at that. Nick felt proud for making Griffin laugh.

The rest of his shift passed quickly, with Griffin sitting at a table waiting for him. Nick had slid into the seat across from him, unfastening the name tag pinned to his shirt. Griffin put down his phone. Griffin outstretched his hand, which Nick shook. He hoped that his hand wasn’t noticeably sweaty. “So, Nicholas. Soulmates.” This was the kind of line that would sound confident if he said it loud enough, but he said it real quiet, and it felt kind of uncertain. “Yep.” Nick’s brain was working too hard. Griffin probably thought he was horribly boring, with his one-word responses. His head dropped and he laughed. “Shit, I’m awful at this. Sorry.” “No, don’t be sorry! I had no idea how to start the conversation, and I just, kinda, said some words and hoped they sounded good. Can I start over?” Nick, who was only sort of listening, said “Oh! Mmhm, yeah, sure.” Griffin cleared his throat. “I’m Griffin McElroy, 30 under 30 media luminary.” Nick grinned. “I’m Nick Robinson, Cheeto Champ.” Griffin laughed, but this time it was just one loud outburst before him saying, “What???? Is there like, some backstory that I’m missing out on? Cheeto Champ? How does one earn that title?” Nick pulled up the video on his phone and showed him, and Griffin watched the whole thing, saying “Jesus, I didn’t know my soulmate was a celebrity! You’re the cheeto prince I’ve always needed.” Nick, laughing uncontrollably, managed to choke out an “It’s my origin story!” before Griffin looked at his watch. “God damn it. I wish I could stay, but I have to go record this afternoon.” He scribbled a number down on the back of the receipt Nick had given him. “Hit me up, dog. I gotta run.”

Nick called him later that night, and then he felt silly for ever thinking that meeting his soulmate was no big deal.


End file.
